


Flight into Egypt

by Vickiemoseley



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 19:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16290035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vickiemoseley/pseuds/Vickiemoseley
Summary: After the rain, changes.





	Flight into Egypt

**Author's Note:**

> There have been a dozen

Title: Flight into Egypt  
Author: Vickie Moseley   
Summary: After the rain, changes.  
Spoiler: Post ep for The Truth  
Category: MSR, A, H (happiness)  
Rating: PG, but I do use the word 'nipple'  
Disclaimer: They say Chris Carter wrote The Truth.   
I find that hard to believe because I liked it. But   
I do acknowledge that he own the rights to these   
characters, so I won't infringe on that.  
Archive: yes  
Additional author's notes: There have been a dozen   
or so stories written about how they go on without   
William, or how they meet up with him after years and   
he doesn't know them. They are all very nice. This   
is not one of those stories.   
Dedication at the end.  
Feedback, please. Let me know if you think the   
premise has potential. vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Flight into Egypt  
By Vickie Moseley  
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Roswell, New Mexico  
5:55 am

She thought they were sleeping late, but he was   
shaking her shoulder and it was still dark outside.

"Scully. Come on. We have to get going."

She pulled the blanket around her, rubbing the sleep   
from her eyes. "Shower?" she asked, one word   
inquiring if he had taken his shower and in the   
meantime might let her sleep if he hadn't.

"All done. See," he shook his wet hair at her.   
"Your turn."

She nodded and climbed out of bed, dragging the   
blanket a few feet with her. She was naked and the   
cold breeze from the air conditioner caused her to   
shiver. "Didn't use all the hot water, did you?" she   
accused over her shoulder as she pulled the door   
behind her.

"It's the desert, Scully. You run out of water   
before you run out of hot," he told her through the   
closed door.

She soaped herself languidly under the mist of the   
showerhead and wondered what he was thinking. They   
had no place to go, nothing to do, they needed to sit   
down and regroup, plan, decide. Why was he pushing   
them out the door? Unless he felt they had been   
found.

She hurried through the rest of her morning rituals,   
foregoing the usual fifteen minutes of hair styling.   
She was out in the main room, grabbing her jeans and   
tee shirt and looking for her shoes. He handed her a   
cup of coffee, presumably from the continental   
breakfast served in the lobby from 6 to 10 am,   
complements of the motel.

"They have yogurt. You can grab one for the road,"   
he told her as he gripped the duffle bag on the bed   
and hefted it over his shoulder. 

"Did you eat anything?" she asked, not looking up in   
the hopes he wouldn't lie to her this time.

"I got an apple. I'm fine," he responded and she   
wished he was being honest this time. She knew he   
didn't eat well in the military stockade, his clothes   
were hanging off him when they met up after his   
escape.

They were out in the parking lot when she finally   
asked what was really on her mind.

"Where are we going, Mulder?"

He gave her a brief smile. "Somewhere we need to go,   
Scully. It won't take long. And then we have plans   
to make."

She nodded and got in the passenger side. It felt   
like old times. He rarely told her where they were   
going or what they were working on until it was too   
late for her to object or back out. Why did she   
expect him to be any different just because they'd   
spent close to a year separated?

They drove for five hours before stopping for lunch.   
At a roadside diner, he ordered a hamburger, deluxe,   
with cheese, onions, pickles, mustard, ketchup, mayo   
and the surprise of the day, jalapeno. Then he added   
an order of onion rings and a piece of sweet potato   
pie. 

She grinned at him in gratitude and ordered a Cobb   
salad, dressing on the side.

"Mulder, where are we going?" she asked again.

"I'll tell you when I know," he smiled at her smugly,   
drenching his onion rings in ketchup and biting into   
one with a flourish.

"I mean it. I really want to know," she insisted.

He reached across the formica tabletop and grasped   
her hand in his. "Trust me, Scully," he breathed.

She closed her eyes and nodded. When they left, half   
her salad was still wilting on the plate.

They drove for another two hours, crossing a state   
line, taking another interstate highway. They were   
now in the far reaches of Utah, skimming the   
Continental Divide. She looked around her at the   
scenery, the splendor that was the Rocky Mountains   
and wondered to herself where they are going. She'd   
stopped asking the question out loud. His answers   
only served to annoy her and she couldn't afford   
feeling that way toward him. Deep in her heart, she   
knew he was right.

Eventually, the steady droning of the tires and the   
emotional upheaval of the last few days caught up   
with her, and she fell into a healing sleep.

As he pulled the car into the gravel lane, he looked   
across at her. She was sleeping, her head turned   
toward his. There was a tear in the corner of her   
eye and it broke free and slid down the side of her   
nose. He knew with inexpressible sorry that she is   
thinking of their child. He chewed on his lip,   
knowing her sorrow, matched with his own. But as the   
long lane turned a corner and revealed a small   
clapboard house, built into the side of a mountain,   
his heart swelled with hope and he smiled through his   
own tears.

As the car approached the house, his was suddenly   
overcome with a sense of foreboding. So far the ones   
who appeared to him, sometimes in dreams, sometimes   
in daylight, had always steered him on the proper   
course. Could the spirits have been wrong this time?   
He put his foot on the brake, stopped the car several   
yards away from the house. 

It looked like a wonderful place to grow up in. The   
house was neatly tucked into the earthen side of the   
mountain, as if the mountain were embracing it,   
keeping it from harm. The windows were kissed with   
shutters, lace curtains billowed from the open panes   
of glass that let the sunshine and the clean mountain   
air into the home.

But it was completely silent. The fear he felt as he   
first saw the house now gripped his heart in a vice   
so tight he was sure his first step would bring him   
to his knees and end his life there and then.   
Somehow, his fear was transformed into courage, the   
courage only a father could know, and he opened the   
car door and hurried to the front door of the house.

The door was unlocked, and pushed easily on its   
hinges. He reached behind him, searching for and   
finally finding his gun, the gun Scully had so   
thoughtfully packed with her when she was preparing   
for their hasty escape. He held the gun in front of   
him as he stepped into the house.

The furniture was slightly worn but clean. A basket   
of baby toys sat next to a padded glider. A coffee   
cup was left unnoticed on the small lamp table near a   
reclining chair. Yesterdays paper was neatly folded   
in a recycle bin near the front door.

No sound. No movement save that of the curtains as   
they breathed with the wind.

He forced himself to stand still and listen. For a   
moment, the only sound that came to him was his own   
breathing, his own heart beat. Then, he heard   
another.

He banged through closed doors, hitting his hip a   
couple of times against door casings in his haste.   
He was running down a hallway, broke open a white   
door, the only one in the house that was locked. It   
led to a set of stairs, digging into the womb of the   
mountain. He took the stairs two at a time, and   
amazed himself when he slipped but caught the railing   
and remained upright. He shrugged off the feeling   
that someone unseen had held his shoulder, supported   
him in his rush to the sound only his heart could   
hear.

The basement housed the furnace/air conditioner, a   
washer and dryer, doors both open for the clothes   
that would never again come. A workbench, as he   
remembered his father once had, sat and waited along   
the wall for a handyman who would never return to his   
labors.

His eyes searched the walls of the room and almost   
overlooked the cut in the paneling. A small   
indentation was all that amounted to a handle. He   
hurried to the door and felt his foot slid as he hit   
a puddle of something on the floor. He looked down,   
lifted his shoe and saw it. Green goo, familiar in   
its own way, vaporizing slowly in the damp air of the   
basement. 

"Oh God," he breathed out, his heart stopping, but   
his body still functioning. His nails tore at the   
indentation, one bent back painfully, but finally the   
door pulled free from its casing and he was able to   
fling it against the wall.

Inside, it looked like a perfect nursery. The walls   
were paneled and then wallpapered, Winnie the Pooh   
characters danced in a two dimensional rendition of   
the 'hunnerd acre woods'. But his peripheral vision   
caught all that for his eyes were on the lone   
occupant of the room, standing just a few yards away.

The tiny boy let out another howl and reached his   
arms into the air. "Da. Dada," he cried through his   
tears.

Mulder's heart started beating but it was now located   
somewhere in his throat. He hurried to the boy,   
sliding once again in another puddle of goo right at   
the side of the crib. Once the tiny being was in his   
arms, he cradled him against his chest, finding his   
mouth releasing a stream of comforting words and   
sounds that he didn't know his bachelor mind held.   
He smiled at his own musings, he knew he wasn't   
really a bachelor and hadn't been one for a long   
time. No bachelor thinks of his son and the child's   
mother when his very life is being threatened. Those   
thoughts belong only to fathers and husbands. And   
holding the child in his arms, Mulder realized he was   
both.

Behind him a noise caused him to twirl and reach for   
his gun that he'd somehow remembered to holster   
before picking up the child. Scully stared at him   
from the doorway, taking in the scene.

A flood of emotions shone on her face, starting with   
annoyance, then anger and finally settling on   
recognition and complete and total joy. She ran to   
his arms, scooping the baby to herself and kissing   
the strawberry red curls. 

"William! Oh, god, William! Do you know how Mommy   
has missed you?" she murmured quietly to the boy, who   
nestled himself into the crook of her neck and smiled   
in content up at his father. 

Mulder engulfed them both in a hug, pulling her to   
his chest and placing a gentle rain of kisses on both   
their heads.

Scully looked up with tears streaming down her face.   
"Mulder, how did you know? How did you find him?"

"We have to talk, Scully, but not here. Look at the   
floor."

Her face furrowed into a confused expression, but she   
did as he instructed. Her foot came away from the   
berber carpet with the essence of the goo still   
clinging to the sole.

"Oh God. You don't think . . ."

Mulder had released them from his embrace and was   
running his hand along the wall near the crib. In   
the shadow, he could see the hole in the paneling,   
revealing the rock wall behind it. A whole at least   
three feet in diameter.

"We almost didn't make it in time," he said with a   
frightened sigh. "C'mon, Scully. I'll help you pack   
him a bag.

"Mulder, his adoptive parent . . . they were . . ?"   
she let the question hang in the air, better   
unspoken.

He nodded. "It looks that way."

Her eyes grew large and she hugged the baby closer to   
her. "I didn't know. I wasn't supposed to know that   
much about them. But they'd been checked out,   
Mulder. John and Monica, Walter even, they checked   
them out. He was supposed to be safe," she was   
crying again, her emotions running so close to the   
surface that she was allowing herself to fall into   
their depths.

He touched her shoulder. "Scully, we can't go into   
this here. Help me. Tell me what he needs."

She nodded shakily and started directing him as he   
tore through drawers of the bureau and changing   
table, gathering up diapers, undershirts, clean   
clothes, the very blankets and sheets from the bed.   
She spied the diaper bag next to the rocking chair   
and pulled it one handed onto her shoulder. At the   
last moment, her eyes caught sight of the folding   
playpen/porta-crib hiding next to the bureau. "Grab   
that too, he can sleep in that until we find a   
place."

Mulder went about his tasks as quickly and   
efficiently as possible. As they hurried up the   
stairs, she started toward the other rooms of the   
house, but he stopped her. "No time," he reminded   
her.

"But what about baby food?" she asked, coming back to   
her practical self.

"We'll get it on the way. It won't look suspicious,   
babies eat all the time," he assured her. But even   
as he was pushing her out the door he remembered   
something he didn't want to leave behind. He loaded   
the items he was carrying into the cargo space of the   
car and went back inside the house, returning with   
the basket of toys from the living room.

"Kid has to have something familiar around him," he   
said as she gave him a raised eyebrow look. 

She had not been idle, finding a car seat in the   
backseat of the Volvo station wagon parked in the   
drive. She was buckling the baby into the back seat,   
kissing his head as Mulder threw himself in the   
driver's seat and started the engine.

They were quiet for several miles, not even the radio   
on. In the silence, Mulder kept his mind focused on   
the road, not allowing himself to think back on the   
scene they'd just left, the drama that had obviously   
played out moments before their arrival. He pushed   
the gas pedal down a little farther and sought out   
his next exit.

Scully sat turned in her seat, watching the small boy   
situated behind Mulder. He was asleep, the car   
sounds and motions lulling him. She couldn't stop   
the tears that kept coming steadily from her eyes, so   
she just wiped at them occasionally, most of them   
falling down her shirt and in her lap.

They had just left the outskirts of Salt Lake when   
William awoke and let out a shriek. Mulder jerked   
the wheel of the car, but Scully smiled easily.

"He always does that when he's really hungry," she   
explained, but it was obvious from the look on   
Mulder's face that this particular habit of his son   
would take him some time to get used to. Scully   
smiled indulgently at him, then she remembered.   
"Mulder, we don't have food."

They could go back, but he had been told to go   
forward. The next town was several miles away, but a   
rest area was just a mile up the road, according to   
the sign.

"I have an idea," he said and pulled into the lane to   
take them to the rest area.

William was making his discomfort known in no   
uncertain terms. The boy's face was red and he was   
hiccupping in his anguish. Scully's 'mother   
instincts' clicked in and recognized he wasn't in any   
danger, just the impatience of the pre-verbal. She   
spoke to him in calming tones, even trying to sing to   
him. Mulder raised an eyebrow at her singing   
efforts, a smile coming to his face as he realized   
what song she used as a lullaby.

"Three Dog Night, Scully? Couldn't you at least have   
picked something by Clapton?" he teased as he pulled   
into a parking place.

She looked askance at his remark. "So. Planning on   
giving our son his first taste of 'Cuisine ala   
Mulder'?" she asked as she got out of the car and   
lifted the still squealing infant out of his seat.   
She grabbed his diaper bag, its weight a comfort on   
her shoulder. Now that the initial shock was over,   
only an incredible happiness was surging through her   
veins.

"C'mon, Scully. These places are used to families on   
the road. I bet we find a whole bunch of things that   
will keep him quiet," he said holding the door for   
her as they entered the building.

Scully made a beeline for the women's restroom, and   
with the sounds of his son's screams echoing off the   
brick walls, Mulder wandered over to the vending   
machines. When Scully joined him a few minutes   
later, he was grimacing at the selection.

"Well, at least he's dry, for the moment. What have   
we got?" she asked, searching the glass cases for any   
sign of sustenance.

"I supposed he's a little young for Screamin' Nacho   
Cheese Doritos, huh?" Mulder queried and was rewarded   
with a glare. "Hot chocolate?" was his second timid   
suggestion.

"Oh, yeah, that would be perfect. Better yet, grab   
him a cup of coffee and he can learn all about his   
parent's addictions," she growled.

"They have ice cream bars," Mulder pointed out   
hopefully.

Scully was shifting the baby back and forth, while   
William, still yelling his head off, was pulling at   
her shirt. "Sweetie, Mommy and Daddy are trying to   
figure this out," she crooned and tried to still the   
infant's hands as he pulled at her buttons.

Mulder saw the look on her face when she first felt   
the sensation. It was confusion, replaced by the   
look of a quiet memory, followed hard by a shake of   
her head in disbelief.

"What is it, Scully?" he asked.

She hesitated to answer. Finally she shook her head   
again. "It's just all the emotions," she discounted   
her reaction more to herself than to him.

"What?" he demanded, putting his hand on her shoulder   
to let her know he wasn't going to be dismissed that   
easily.

She grinned shyly. "It felt . . . well it sort of   
felt for a minute like my letdown reflex kicked in."   
She was blushing and he was now the one confused.

"Letdown? You're depressed?" he asked, totally   
missing the point.

"No, silly. Letdown reflex is what you feel when   
your . . ." She looked around to ensure they were   
alone in the common area. "Your milk comes in," she   
whispered.

Mulder chewed on his lip and then lifted his still   
very angry son from Scully's arms. There on her   
blouse were twin stains of wetness right at her   
nipples.

"Scully, I think we can handle this the old fashioned   
way."

She stared down at her shirt as if it didn't belong   
on her body. When she looked up at him it was   
amazement and disbelief warring in her eyes.

"Mulder, this is impossible. I haven't nursed in   
months! My milk dried up. I can't possibly . . ."

William wasn't taking part in the discussion at all,   
but was reaching again for his mother, grasping with   
tiny fingers at the buttons of her shirt.

"My god," Scully whispered. "Oh my God."

"Scully, I think we need to take this someplace more   
private," Mulder said in a stage whisper as a trucker   
came through the outside door.

"Let's go back to the car. I can try it in the   
backseat," she said in agreement.

In a matter of minutes, William was happily and   
greedily suckling at his mother's breast while Scully   
sat stroking his forehead, more tears dripping down   
her face. Mulder had returned to the building and   
had come back arms laden with junk food and cold   
drinks.

"We'll stop for the night when we hit the next town,   
but for now, this should keep us in provisions," he   
told her.

"You're such a provider, Mulder," she teased, nodding   
to the assortment of cheese puffs, corn chips, potato   
chips and three different kinds of chocolate covered   
candy bars. "If he decides to take up the breast   
again, I can't eat all that chocolate. It'll give   
him gas," she said, turning her attention back to the   
baby who had stopped suckling and was now sleeping,   
his mouth still holding her nipple, but with not   
suction, no force. Gently she raised him to her   
shoulder and he let out a loud burp. 

Mulder grinned. "That's my boy!" he whispered and   
gave Scully a wink.

Scully buckled the boy into his car seat and moved   
into the front seat next to Mulder. She was   
thinking, he could tell. She still couldn't believe   
freely, she couldn't let go and just let it be.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Don't   
twist yourself into a pretzel trying to figure this   
out, Scully. Just take it for what it is. It's a   
miracle, a blessing and it came at just the time we   
needed it. Don't ask too many questions, just accept   
it and be grateful," he cautioned her tenderly.

She nodded, tears brimming her eyes, but she was   
getting a better grip on her roller-coaster emotions.   
"We have to talk about this, Mulder. How you knew   
where to go, what we found, this," she waved down at   
her chest. "All of it. We have to figure it out."

He nodded in agreement. "Just not right now, Scully.   
Let's wait till we find a place to stay for the   
night."

They stopped at a little town just south of the   
Idaho-Montana border, boasting lodging for   
Yellowstone National Park. Scully pointed out an   
inexpensive chain and Mulder pulled the car into the   
driveway that led to the lobby.

In minutes he was back to help her carry their bags   
and William in to the motel. 

"Housekeeping is bringing us a crib," he informed her   
as he slipped the cardkey into the doorlock. The   
room was new, the carpet still smelled fresh. There   
was a king sized bed and a desk and chair with a low   
dresser that acted as the resting place for a 32 inch   
screen television. "All the comforts," he said   
wiggling his eyebrows. He tossed the bags on the bed   
and headed for the bathroom. He returned to the   
sound of the toilet flushing. "All yours."

"We need to go out and find some more diapers,"   
Scully informed him.

"I thought we had enough . . ."

"Mulder, believe me, he goes through them as fast as   
you go through sunflower seeds," she retorted dryly.   
He could hear her moving around the bathroom, doing   
something but he wasn't sure what.

"We'll just have to get you to drink less," he told   
William, picking the baby up and carrying him around   
the room. "Look, Will! A TV! Son, this is your   
father's favorite nightlight," he informed the baby,   
who gurgled and cooed at the attention being showered   
upon him.

"We need dinner," Scully mentioned as she came back   
into the main room and started digging through the   
baby's bags. "C'mon, sweetie, Mommy has a place to   
change you and you can even make faces at yourself in   
the mirror," she cooed happily taking him out of   
Mulder's arms and carrying him into the bathroom.

"I'll be back soon," he promised, picking up his keys   
from the nightstand and heading out the door.

A Wendy's, a MacDonald's and a Long John Silvers/Taco   
Bell combo were the finer eating establishments. He   
weighed his options carefully, made his decision and   
went about bringing home dinner for his family.

His family. It had been a long time since he allowed   
himself to even think of that term, much less muse on   
its importance in the scheme of things. He   
understood completely why Scully had taken the   
actions she had taken. In her shoes, he would have   
done the same. But Scully was working without all   
the information. He had the inside track, or at   
least a direct pipeline to the information, it   
seemed. Together, they were much better than either   
of them separately.

She was sitting in the chair by the desk, William   
again at her breast when he came in with their meal.   
She smiled at the bags, indicating his choice had met   
with her approval.

"Wendy's Chinese chicken salad for madam," he intoned   
formally. "With a side order of chili if that   
pleases her and the young master," he added with a   
wink.

"And you, oh brave knight?" she inquired, keeping   
with the tone of his game.

"I slew a dragon and made it into three patties, then   
ravaged the countryside and compiled this," he said,   
producing a Wendy's triple with everything.

"I suppose you're having potatoes with all that   
meat," she prodded with a raised eyebrow.

"Super-sized, so we can share. Oh, and a Frosty for   
dessert. And you can't tell me you won't let me feed   
my son his first Frosty, because that's grounds for   
abuse," he said, wagging his index finger in her   
direction.

He handed her a large cup and she smiled when she   
noticed the clear contents.

"I figured if chocolate caused him gas, I didn't want   
to think what caffeine would do to him," he said with   
a shrug.

"You're getting the hang of this quick, sport," she   
grinned at him.

He watched her in awe as she ate her salad while   
nursing the baby, not only keeping all food off   
herself, but the infant attached to her breast as   
well. Meanwhile, he was so engrossed in her actions   
that he dripped ketchup and tomatoes all over his   
shirt. She sent a thrill down his spine when she   
laughed at him and promised to 'clean him up later'.

William had fallen asleep. Mulder finally noticed   
that housekeeping at been good to their word and a   
crib was waiting at the side of the bed. She burped   
the sleeping infant, laid him down in the crib and   
pressed a kiss to his fuzzy head. When she turned   
around, tears were once again brimming on her lashes,   
but she forced them back with a smile.

"He just needed to be topped off before going down   
for the night," she explained.

"You both needed it," Mulder replied, pulling her to   
him in a quick embrace. "You both needed the comfort   
it brings."

She pulled away and sat down on the bed, her back   
against the headboard. She was signaling her desire   
to talk.

He lay down on the bed at her feet, head propped up   
on his elbow. 

"Tell me everything. Tell me how you knew where he   
was. Tell me where we're going." It wasn't a polite   
request, she used her interrogator's voice. It was a   
demand.

He licked his lips and started. "Since I first broke   
into Mt. Weather, I've seen them. They come at times   
when I need guidance, help."

"Angels?" she asked, sensing he was having trouble   
gathering his thoughts.

He snorted. "Hardly. Krycek was the first."

Her eyes widened. "You saw Krycek?" she asked.

Mulder nodded. "And he spoke to me. He helped me   
find the control room. And then he helped me try to   
escape."

"But you were captured," she pointed out.

"Not because of his advice, believe me. There was no   
possible escape once Rohr had been alerted to my   
presence. So anyway, then I saw him again, in the   
prison, when you came to see me the first time."

"You were standing off to the side of the room,   
staring at the wall," she said, pulling the memory   
forward and reviewing it in detail now. "I thought   
it was the brainwashing."

He shook his head. "I had to put a good show on for   
the cameras, Scully, you know that now. But Krycek   
was there and he talked to me. I asked him why he   
was helping me. He told me because I needed help."

She worried her lip with her tongue. "You said   
'they' have come to you. Who else?"

He scratched at his nose to give him time to   
formulate the correct answer, the one that wouldn't   
cast shadows on her view of his sanity. "Mr. X. He   
was with me in the courtroom."

"Any others?" she asked, trying to calm the urge to   
sound sarcastic.

"The guys. I saw them along the road to the Anasazi   
ruins. And to be honest, they told me to go back,   
make a life for the two of us."

Her face broke as she remembered their friends and   
she wiped at the tears that fell in their memory.

"So who told you where to find William?" she   
continued when she composed herself again.

He looked down at the bedspread. "My father," he   
whispered.

She caught her breath. 

"And your father. Both of them. They came to me in   
a dream, told me where to go to find our son. They,   
uh, they told me that he couldn't be safe unless he   
was in our care, Scully. They told me he'd never be   
safe without us."

She broke into tears again. "Why didn't he come to   
me? Why didn't he tell me that before I gave away   
our baby?"

He pulled himself up and took her in his arms. He   
stroked her hair as she cried into his shirt.   
"Scully, I think at the time, you did what you had to   
do. Our fathers specifically said he had to be with   
'us', both of us. That was the problem. Either of   
us alone can't protect him. It has to be both of us   
or nothing."

That idea seemed to get through to her. "I should   
have waited for you," she said, tears still staining   
her cheeks.

"For how long? You waited almost a year,   
sweetheart," he chided gently. "How long were you   
supposed to keep waiting?"

"Forever," she told him, leaning in to kiss his lips.

He kissed her with passion and then pulled away.   
"Well, that is the right answer on many levels, but   
in this case, hindsight is twenty-twenty. _You_ did   
the right thing. And now _we've_ done the right   
thing."

"All roads lead to this point," she said, remembering   
a turning point in their relationship that center on   
those exact words.

He kissed her nose. "Exactly."

"But the adoptive parents, Mulder, were they . . .   
clones?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea, but I would have to   
say the evidence points to that possibility." He   
stops for a moment, then looks off, considering. "I   
suspect a supersoldier was sent there to kill them   
and take William, but I saw what they'd done. That   
house was built directly into the mountainside. I'm   
not a geologist, but I'm pretty sure there was a vein   
of magnetite in that hill."

"So where do we go? You seem to know where you're   
going," she said pointedly.

He nodded. "Just outside Helena. There's a mountain   
there will a deposit, or so your father seems to   
think."

She choked up again. "Why does he come to you?" she   
asked, trying hard to keep the offended tone out of   
her voice.

He stroked her hair from her face. "I think he sees   
me as the protector, Scully. And besides, I'm more   
likely to believe them without question. I can't   
tell you the reason, but maybe that's why we work so   
well together. Maybe that's the strength I bring to   
this partnership," he smiled and then casting a   
glance at the crib he amended himself. "Sorry, this   
team," he said with a grin.

"And what do I bring?" she asked, her face full of   
worry. 

"You're our heart," he assured her in a hoarse   
whisper punctuated with a kiss. "And William is our   
future."

"Why is this happening, Mulder? I still don't   
understand. Is it because of this?" she asked,   
rubbing the chip where it still rested beneath the   
skin of her neck.

He shook his head firmly. "No, my love. I believe   
it's because of this," and he gently picked up the   
tiny gold cross that hung at her neck. "I think   
we're dealing with a higher power now."

She pulled in a breath and nodded. Then she pulled   
him down to rest on his shoulder and they both fell   
into a much-needed sleep.

The end for now.

Dedicated to all the people who asked: But wouldn't   
the baby have been safer WITH them than without them?


End file.
